Saturday, October 06, 2007

with a name like Smicksburg, it's got to be good



Yeah, it's been almost another two weeks since I've turned on the lights over here, but I'm not apologizing for it anymore. It is what it is – and what it is right now, mostly, is soaking up this crazy endless summer while it lasts. I know I should harbor a healthy skepticism toward it because, after all, it's got to be global warming, but I can't help it – I'm loving these bonus days of sunshine and skirts and sandals.

So, what with it being 85 degrees and all, it was a little hard to get in an autumnal mood for our annual family trip to the Fall Festival in Smicksburg. Especially since the day really started off on the wrong foot, if not the entirely wrong side of the body/bed/pick your metaphor. Iris was fitful and whiny, J and I fed up... I believe that cancelling the trip was in the offing at one particularly low point this morning. Thank goodness we managed to pull it together as a family and persevere through the hour-and-a-half car trip for our annual stroll through the shops and walk in the woods.

The drought has been murder on the foliage, but there were still plenty of pumpkins, yard sales (no luck, but fun looking), baked goods, and face painting. We missed out on the latter, much to Iris' dismay, but ice ceam was offered and more-or-less cheerfully accepted as a consolation prize.



Which brings me to a log of the food the child has eaten today:

1/2 peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich
approximately 6 grapes (let's hear it for nutrition!)
brownie from bake sale cunningly sited outside Saturday morning music class venue
pickle
pretzel
ice cream

Think that had anything to do with the meltdowns? She did not eat dinner, but conked out in the car on the way home from Smicksburg and was carried straight to bed. Possibly the first time I have ever succeeded in transferring her sleeping person from car to bed, probably because her body was so completely depleted of good wholesome fuel, but a triumph of (selfish) sorts nonetheless, because it meant a rare grown-up dinner at home for J and me.

All's well that ends well.

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